


Homecoming

by sunaddicted



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Caretaking, Cuddling & Snuggling, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fix-It, Fix-It of Sorts, Fluff, Future Fic, M/M, Other, Post-Prison, Reunions, Sleepy Cuddles, Tenderness, Understanding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-15
Updated: 2018-11-15
Packaged: 2019-08-24 01:07:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16629974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunaddicted/pseuds/sunaddicted
Summary: “Get in the car before he arrests you again, you idiot”





	Homecoming

**Author's Note:**

> This is set so far in the future that season 4 has been completely forgotten lol

_Homecoming_

The sight of an expensive limousine rolling to a stop in front of Arkham’s gates wasn't exactly an unfamiliar one: the Rogues were an eccentric bunch and when they didn't sneak out of the asylum and were legally released back into the world, they liked to make a defiantly loud production out of it right in front of everyone's eyes. Like many odd traditions practiced amongst the Rogues, also that particular one had been established by the Penguin - back when most of the major players hadn't yet come into being; Oswald Cobblepot had been the first of the Rogues to rise from the city's seedy underbelly and even if he hadn't been seated on the throne of Gotham's underworld, any other criminal who had at least a little grasp on the city's history would have respected him.  

Not that the issue of respect really existed: the Penguin was still at the top, straddling the line between mundanity and criminality with a frighteningly natural ease.

Oswald rolled down the dark window so that he could peer up at Arkham, the tip of his cigarette burning a crimson red as he took a deep drag: the asylum hardly was a building he enjoyed laying eyes upon, its austere architecture devoid of any gargoyles or weeping angels aroused in him a deep-seated sense of unease - a reminder of just how cut off from the city one could be when trapped in those humid and drafty halls. Of course Arkham’s security had only gotten steadily worse in the last decades and it was now possible to still rule the city even from behind the asylum crumbling walls - Oswald had done it, more than once.  

Though, he supposed that one never really could forget past horrors and there were plenty of the Rogues who had never been entrusted to Dr Strange's _loving_ care and _stellar_ bedside manners.

Oswald sighed, eyes following the billowing smoke into the frigid air; the sky was of that light grey colour - almost white - that threatened an approaching snow storm, quite the expected phenomenon in Gotham at the beginning of December.  

That didn't mean that Oswald wanted to be anywhere that wasn't his home when the first flakes started falling; despite the Iceberg Lounge being his base of operations and the symbol of his power, Oswald didn't hold a particular fondness for the cold: people thought he enjoyed it without realising that it was just a necessity to keep his penguins happy and comfortable.  

And because once upon a time, he had been so scorned that he'd made out of an enemy - a friend, a loved one, a _soulmate_ \- the centrepiece of the first incarnation of his club and the wintry theme had stuck.  

“He's taking his sweet time, isn't he?”

Oswald glared at the man who had seemingly appeared out of thin air and who was nonchalantly leaning against the side of his expensive car “If you scratch the paint job, I'm going to put in Harley's head the amazing idea of sneaking into your flat to shave that thing you call a moustache off of your face while you sleep”

“What has gotten you in such a pissy mood?” Jim inquired, nervously petting his moustache: he didn't care that everyone and their mother seemed to hate it; he liked it and it wasn't his fault if in twenty years nobody had managed to accept it “You're getting Nygma for Christmas, you're supposed to be happy”

“It's only the fifth of December: plenty of time for him to get locked up again before the holiday”

“Chain him to the bed” he suggested with a teasing grin, reaching inside the limousine to grab the cigarette pack Oswald had abandoned in the cup holder.  

“That's stealing, Commissioner Gordon”

“We both know I've done worse than that” Jim shrugged, shaking away the other's judgy statement “Add it to the list”

“True” Oswald conceded, offering the other man his lighter “What are you doing here?” He doubted Jim had left his office at the GCPD just to glare at Edward as he walked out of Arkham; everybody knew that Oswald had fabricated proof so that he could get his lover out but he'd done a good job of it and nobody actually had anything concrete in hand to send him in prison: he was that good and it helped that, in the last years, he'd stopped dirtying  his own hands unless absolutely necessary - Jim being there wouldn't change the fact that the Riddler was going to walk free.

“I came to request an interrogation file but of course they're having issues locating it” more often than not, the inefficiency of Arkham’s system annoyed Jim to no end but that morning he was in a good mood and he could always ask Batman to swing by the asylum and harass the staff until they produced the record he needed.

Oswald hummed and a companionable silence fell between them as they smoked together, ashes falling to the ground like twisted snowflakes; they weren't exactly friends - there was too much bloodied history between them, wounds left to fester and scab over - but they got along better than they had used to: Oswald couldn't help admiring Jim's strength and resilience, while the Commissioner had come to realise that the Penguin often was the lesser evil in Gotham and he had bigger problems to actually worry about.  

Such as the man who had just burst out of Arkham, grinning and twirling his question mark cane while he waved at the guards with his free hand - flamboyant and utterly ridiculous as he paraded in the parking lot wearing just his latex suit and only the jacket of his inmate uniform to shield him from the freezing air.  

“I used to think you're a drama queen”

Oswald smirked “I pale in comparison, don't I?” and he was the kind of man who tossed antacid tablets in glasses of champagne.  

“Ozzie!” Edward greeted cheerfully, ignoring Jimbo to bend down and kiss Oswald “Oh god, you taste disgusting!”

“Hello to you too, Ed”

“I hate it when you smoke”

“I hate it when you get yourself into Arkham when the holidays are close”

“Oh, you bastard! You did it to punish me, didn't you?”

Jim cleared his throat “And I'm going to leave you two to this truly heartwarming reunion” he said, letting the cigarette fall to the ground and stomping on it out of habit, even if he doubted that it would start a fire in that cold “Have fun and try to make my life as less complicated as possible”

Edward grinned “No promises, Jimbo”

“Get in the car before he arrests you again, you idiot”

* * *

“Eddie!”

“Query! Echo!”

Oswald closed the door behind his back and walked past the shrieking trio: they hadn't even been separated for that long but they usually spent most of their time together scheming, stealing, watching movies and generally giving Oswald headaches he didn't really deserve but which he endured anyway because he liked seeing Edward happy.  

And Query and Echo definitely had grown on him a little.   

Oswald trudged up the stairs, leaning heavily on his cane, and went to their bedroom; Edward was wearing his signature green Riddler latex suit and while it had been kept in storage when he was behind bars, it still had gotten impregnated by Arkham’s stench which Oswald didn't want to endure longer than he absolutely had to. He dumped in a laundry bag fresh clothes and slippers before he made the trek back downstairs, trying to ignore the twinging pain that resonated up his whole leg and shot through his spine: cold and humidity wasn't a combination that his ruined joints particularly appreciated and Oswald hated taking anything stronger than Ibuprofen “You know the drill: shower and put everything you're wearing in the laundry bag” he said, tossing the bundle at his lover “I'm sure these ladies can do without you for ten minutes”

Query warily glanced at Edward, fingers flexing around his bicep as if reluctant to let go.  

Echo drew her lower lip between her teeth.

Oswald rolled his eyes “Come on, he's not going to disappear. Help me to set up lunch” he ordered in a firm voice.

Sometimes he wondered about why he had let his traitorous heart rule over him once again: how much easier would his life be if he had never let Edward close again? He wasn't 100% sure of the answer because well, even before the other man had harassed him in the middle of the GCPD his life had been extremely complicated - he seemed to attract problems and if he hadn't been the cunning and resourceful little Cobblepot that his mother had raised all alone in a city that devoured the weak, Oswald knew that he would be rotting just as the likes of Maroni and Falcone. And, despite his stupid loving heart, he had outlived everyone - he had come back to life to plunge a knife in the backs of those who had wished to undo him, fools who hadn't been able to recognise a king when they looked at him in the eyes.  

“Can we make omelettes?”

“And pancakes?”

Oswald sighed heavily but he didn't snap at the two women: he was happy to have his lover back too, he understood their enthusiasm; it was just the pain that was making him grouchier than usual - more irritable than he had any right to be - and Query and Echo actually hadn't done anything to deserve him going off on them “Sure, just try not to make too much of a mess” a vain request, Oswald knew that very well: he would just call the cleaning maid earlier than scheduled and pay her a bonus for dealing with the chaos left behind by Query and Echo “I'll make the omelettes, alright?” he said as he peered into the fridge.

Suddenly a pair of arms wrapped itself around him “Can I have mine with ham and cheese and bacon on the side?” Query asked, putting her chin on Oswald's shoulder even if it meant that she basically had to bend in a half to do so.  

“Can I have mine with tomatoes?” Echo quickly added.  

“Of course” their requests weren't unusual and Oswald was used to them being around so often that he always made sure the fridge and the pantry were stocked with their favourites too, which meant a lot of breakfast food and chocolate.  He set to work on the side of the stove that wasn't occupied by Query and Echo, listening to their chattering as he whisked the eggs and prepared the various additions, slicing the green tomatoes and shredding the ham - it reminded him of all the times he would cook with his mother or with Edward, both of them unable to keep quiet while they worked on their dishes.  

It was comforting.  

Even more so when Edward joined them in the kitchen and hugged him from behind - not unlike Query had done just a handful of minutes before and Oswald wondered about who exactly had absentmindedly started copying who - and he breathed in the familiar scent of artificial apples of his lover's shampoo “Hey”

“Hi” Edward murmured, happily rubbing his cheek against Oswald's “I missed you”

“I missed you too”

* * *

“You don't have to come with me” Oswald murmured as he adjusted the lapels of Edward's jacket - one of his old ones, as proved by the fact that despite having lost some weight in Arkham, it fit him perfectly: his lover had been thinner at the beginning of his career as the Riddler, almost unhealthily so “You could stay at home and get some rest, I doubt you slept well in Arkham”

Edward put his hands over Oswald's and squeezed them gently, careful of not hurting his knuckles, swollen with arthritis and too many fights that degenerated into fists thrown at the adversary “You said you're not going to stay until closing time, didn't you? I'll be fine staying awake until midnight” he reassured, leaning over to kiss the other man; he let out a pleased hum when the only thing he could taste on his lover's lips was the rich wine they had had with dinner, instead of bitter smoke: Oswald wasn't supposed to touch even a cigarette - doctor's orders - but whenever he wasn't around, the other man indulged his filthy habit “Besides, if I show my face at the Lounge everyone will know I'm back” he added with a cheeky grin, giving Oswald one last peck before he straightened up and donned on his purple gloves; they were more of a necessity nowadays, rather than a fashionable accessory: the cold hadn't become any kinder with the increasing of his age.

“Fine, but you can take the car and leave as soon as you feel tired - no matter who's there and how badly they say they have missed you” it wouldn't surprise Oswald if a couple of the Rogues tried to glue Edward to the chair in an attempt at forbidding him to leave.  

God, how badly had he missed Oswald's mothering “I will” he promised, glancing at his reflection in the mirror: he didn't look too shabby, considering that he was wearing an old suit and the tired lines on his face from his sojourn in Arkham hadn't faded yet “Ready to go?” he asked, gently pushing a rebellious strand of hair back into the puffy coiffed hairdo Oswald had chosen for the night; Edward had never explicitly stated a preference about how his lover styled his hair but, apparently, Oswald had picked up on it anyway - was Edward surprised? Not really: one of Oswald's talents was reading people.

“Yes, let's go. There's some business I need to take care of” and he could get to it without any distractions since the Riddler would be there to charm and entertain the crowd of the Lounge.  

He might even lift his ban on Grasshoppers for the night - afterall, it wasn't every day that his lover came back from prison, was it?

Oswald leaned over the banister and observed Edward laugh wholeheartedly at something Harley had told him, the worryingly neon green drink in his hand splashing a little on the table he was perched on.

News of the Riddler being released from Arkham had spread fast among the Rogues and customers alike and the Lounge was packed more than it would usually be on a Wednesday night: Gothamites - especially the rich and famous that his club catered to - loved to party, but even the longest weekend usually didn't start before Thursday night. It was the natural ebb and flow of the business and Oswald had enough experience in the field not to worry about the lower income during the week - though, he wasn't going to look a gifted horse in the mouth and complain about the sudden influx of clientele: it would make his employees yearly bonus a little fatter.

He drew his pocket watch - an anniversary gift from Edward - out of his jacket and checked the time, frowning when he saw that it was gone midnight: it had clearly taken him longer than he had thought it would to review the month expenses and finalize the details of an exchange at the docks. Edward still looked rather perky but Oswald was sure that his lover was more tired than he let on and he'd been too stubborn to leave early like Oswald had told him to; part of him was annoyed - god only knew how hard it would be to get Edward to sleep if he had already pushed himself past the point of exhaustion - but another part was endeared as he realised that Edward had just wanted to be with him, spend together all the time they could.

Oswald retrieved his coat and his cane from his office, slipping inside the first and firmly taking in hand the second before he made his way down to the main floor and approached the VIP table - _his_ table, at which the Rogues had a standing invitation to sit unless they had done something to piss him off.

“Pengy!”

“Hello, Harley” Oswald greeted her warmly, letting her kiss his cheek despite the bright shade of pink of her lipstick that he vividly hoped wouldn't stain his skin “I've come to retrieve Edward”

“Time to go home?”

“Unless you're dying to stay”

Edward briefly contemplated the possibility but then he looked at Oswald and saw pain and tiredness etched in his features - subtle enough that nobody else would have noticed but he _knew_ Oswald - and there was nothing more that he'd rather do than drag his beloved home, so that they could curl up together on the bed and get reacquainted with the warmth of each other's bodies. Edward tossed back the last of his drink with a grimace and jumped on the table, ignoring the way it shook under his feet “Ladies and gentlemen! It has been an absolute pleasure to spend my first night as a free man in your delicious company - alas, I must go” he tapped his cane on the table top before he leaned against the curve of the question mark, a devious smile spreading on his face “I engulf you in darkness but I show you many things, I can be resisted but a lack of me kills - what am I?”

Oswald rolled his eyes “Sleep” he muttered, voice low enough that the other patrons wouldn't catch the answer to the riddle “And you really need some of it”

“Correct, Mr Penguin” Edward grinned as he jumped down on the floor “I guess you deserve a prize”

“Oh?”

Edward hummed “Yes” he leaned over until his lips were brushing the shell of the other's ear “Me. In your bed”

_A prize, indeed._

* * *

The bed, the blankets, his pyjamas, Oswald himself… everything was so soft and warm that Edward could have cried in sheer joy if he hadn't been so tired: Arkham always was cold and drafty and no matter how generous the donations the likes of Bruce wayne made to the asylum, the inmates never got thicker uniforms or better meals; the place was always squalid, as if the whole structure itself was trying to crush its patients’ - and prisoners’ - spirit. So, despite all of his good intentions about ravishing the other man, everything that he could do was sliding as close as possible to Oswald and cuddle up to him while his lover's fingers gave to his scalp a soothing massage that drained away tension he hadn't even realised was there “If we had a cat, it would never leave your lap”

Oswald chuckled “Another reason not to get a cat: you would get deathly jealous of the little beast” Edward Nygma definitely wasn't a sharer but that was perfectly alright because Oswald wasn't either, as past events has blatantly showed “Not to mention, all the cat hair on my suits would probably drive me insane”

“Lint rolls”

“Are you trying to persuade me to get a cat?”

Edward shrugged “I don't like the idea of you being alone in this huge house when I'm in prison”

Oswald snorted “That thought isn't nearly as bad as you being in prison” he pointed out; once upon a time he would have asked Edward to try and be more careful but it just wasn't in the Riddler's nature to be more subdued about his crimes: he thrilled on the recognition, soaked up every single line written in honour of his dastardly schemes, craved the attention - even if that brought the GCPD and the Bat knocking to the door of one of his hideouts.

The chase was just another part of the game.

“You're wandering”

“Sorry, I got lost in my thoughts”

Edward let out an understanding noise before a yawn forced his jaws apart and he had to muffle it into the silk of his lover's pyjamas because he had no intentions of slipping his hands away from under Oswald's shirt “So, a cat?”

“I'll consider the idea” Oswald answered, carefully picking Edward's glasses off of his face and put them on the nightstand, right over the alarm clock which was the first thing Edward usually looked at when he woke up, so that he would be able to easily find them “You really need to sleep now, though. We can discuss it further while we have breakfast tomorrow” or brunch, more likely: Oswald was counting on the other man not rolling out of bed before ten.

“Will you make me waffles?”

“Sure”

“And fried chicken?”

“Of course”

“What about _crêpes_?”

Oswald knew very well that kind of insidious hunger, born out of having been starved for far too long: it would take a while before Edward stopped inhaling his food and unconsciously hunch over his plate in a defensive stance, but Oswald knew that those behaviours would eventually fade away and in the meanwhile, he planned on making sure that his lover got abundant portions at every meal “I'll even whip up some cream to put on top, alright?”

“Alright” another yawn - longer and louder “I really missed you”

“I missed you too” more than he could put into words “I love you”

Edward smiled and burrowed deeper under the blankets, feet nestled between Oswald's shins, hands slightly kneading the other's belly and eyelids sliding closed as he clicked off the light “I love you too” he murmured in the dark that didn't bother him as much as it had while he had been in Arkham: it was quiet and toasty, filled with the familiar scent of Oswald's skin and the creaking of the old house instead than with the humid stench of mold and the screeching of the other inmates.  

It was… _Home_.

**Author's Note:**

> I'll never write the Riddler without Query and Echo, sue me.


End file.
